Everything and Nothing
by Songwind
Summary: Based on Movie!ALW and the original novel Christine Daae doesn't believe in ghosts, but she believes in Angels. Erik decides on a whim to prove to her that ghosts do exist, and winds up in a role he doesn't expect. Fluffy prequel. Hope you enjoy.
1. Chapter One

**Everything and Nothing**

By: Songwind

Disclaimer- I don't own Phantom of the Opera. I'm sure you're shocked by this outrageous statement, but it's true.

Summary- (ALW Movie) Erik discovers a little brat named Christine Daae who refuses to believe that the Phantom of the Opera exists, despite Meg's insistence. He plans to give her a bit of a scare, but his plans change when he discovers that all she wants is some company… Just to warn you, the fuzzy levels will get high in here. Hope you all enjoy. Oh, and this is from Erik's point of view for the most part.

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Chapter One: Insolent Little Brat… 

My first impression of young Mademoiselle Daae was not a particularly good one, though it did amuse me to no end. The day had been a slow one; the Opera Populaire was enjoying a break between productions, however brief, and my managers were too busy indulging themselves to worry about their resident ghost.

I nearly ran into her and little Giry on my way out of my Box, where I'd left my box-keeper some sweets to ensure her continued good service. I'd decided on a whim to take a peek at the ballet rehearsals, and found a small group of future dancers and singers.

"Does not!" a young voice insisted, making me jump. The voice was completely unfamiliar to me.

"Does too!" a second said. This one was slightly higher in pitch, and had a touch of a whine somewhere within. I couldn't help but smirk; this was definitely little Giry.

Curiously, I peered down from the rafters to inspect the group of young girls.

Apparently, the group (no more than seven) were on their way to the dormitories, but had stopped to have this riveting debate.

"Does _not!"_

"Does _too!_" Meg Giry said. "He does too!"

He?

"Ghosts don't exist," the unfamiliar girl said quietly, frowning.

Ah, that would explain the argument. I examined the unfamiliar youngling for a moment, doing my best to ignore a short continuation of "Does not! Does too!"

The girl was small to begin with, but was also thin enough to rival my own lack of substance. Her eyes were sunken slightly into her face, giving her a sullen expression. Right now, she was busying herself by sticking her tongue out at little Giry.

I rolled my eyes and started to move on- it didn't look like they were going to get anywhere with this conversation- when little Giry blurted, "If ghosts don't exist, then neither does your stupid Angel!"

A couple of the other girls looked curious at this statement. Little Giry looked particularly pleased with herself.

The sullen little girl looked stricken, as though someone had just dumped ice cold water all over her person. She stood there, her little fists clenching and unclenching for a few moments as she stared at little Giry incredulously.

Then she started to sniffle.

Little Giry suddenly looked a lot less pleased with herself. "Look, I didn't mean-" she began.

Too late.

The unfamiliar girl proceeded not to whimper, not to weep, not to cry. Oh, no. That wouldn't direct the proper amount of attention to those lungs.

With me hovering about ten feet above her, she began to _scream._

The other little girls looked embarrassed at this display, though their eyes continued to be wide-eyed and curious. I clapped my hands over my ears, wincing and mentally cursing at my sensitive hearing. One youngling moved towards little Giry- possibly to ask what on earth she had meant by that "Angel" comment. However, all possibility of an explanation at this time ceased when Madame Giry appeared.

_Thank God,_ I thought. I wasn't very religious, but I had no urge to listen to a girl scream her heart out for the next few hours.

"What is going on here!" the Madame demanded, taking in the situation with a glance.

"Mama-" little Giry began.

"He does _too!"_ the unfamiliar girl wailed. "Father _said_ he did! He does _too!"_

I blinked.

A few of the other girls shared my sentiment.

Madame Giry pulled out a cloth and knelt down to wipe at the girl's face, trying to stop the tears. She shot little Giry a look that one associates with a mother preparing to scold one's child. Then she said, "Of course he does, Mademoiselle Daae. Meg, take the others to the dormitories. I will deal with you later."

"But Mama, she _started_ it-"

"_Now_, Meg."

As young as I was when I left my mother, I could remember that tone as clearly as though my mother had just spoken to me in that tone. So I completely understood when young Meg Giry fled with her entourage in tow. However annoying it was that I had yet to have an explanation about why references to an Angel made this girl start interfering with my box-keeper's work in my Opera House.

I considered moving on now, but the "fun" had yet to begin.

"What _is _all of this racket!" a woman's voice screeched down the hallway.

Madame Giry and I looked up to see who it was, while Mademoiselle Daae continued to sniffle tearfully. Lord, how I hated that sound!

But the woman I saw approaching was definitely someone I abhorred far more than any child's tears.

"Madame Blanche," my box-keeper greeted quietly.

"Can you not keep your little brat from screeching while I am rehearsing!" said woman demanded. "I cannot concentrate on my scales when there is this unholy screeching in the halls!"

I gritted my teeth, and Madame Giry visibly suppressed a flash of annoyance. Mademoiselle Daae ignored everything but the little cloth Madame Giry had been using on her face, twisting it about in her hands and continuing to sniffle.

"Madame, I apologize but this should not be bothering you if you were rehearsing in your rooms," Madame Giry said coolly.

"Oh, so now I am required to stay shut away from the world unless I am performing? I cannot walk the halls like any other?" Blanche said. "Kindly remember that the Opera House does not belong to the box-keepers and their… children. This Opera House belongs to its performers."

"This Opera House belongs to everyone who makes a contribution to its staying well-kept," Madame Giry said. Her voice was now as ice.

I couldn't blame her, personally. This was _my _Opera House, if anyone's. And no matter how good a voice this woman had, no leading soprano had the right to claim something that was indisputably _mine._

"This Opera House survives because of me," Blanche insisted. "And you'd best hope that I do not speak to the managers of your behavior towards me. Keep your child in line, Madame box-keeper." She bent over to inspect Mademoiselle Daae more closely, disgust etched across her delicate features. "Children should be seen, not heard. Though by this one's look she shouldn't be seen, either."

Mademoiselle Daae sniffled, looked up into that leering face-

and let loose the loudest sneeze I've ever heard.

"Ugh!" Madame Blanche jerked back, raising a hand as though to hit the little girl.

Madame Giry's look, however, stopped her. "Touch her, Madame Blanche, and it will be you who will be hearing from the managers," she said.

Madame Blanche pulled down her hand, glaring. "Very well. Disgusting little… Your brat will pay for her insolence, Madame box-keeper."

"If you're planning to threaten me or my charges, then address me with my name, Madame," my box-keeper said.

Madame Blanche ignored her, hurrying down the hallway towards the nearest washroom with all the dignity she had left- which, I thought gleefully, wasn't all that much.

Madame Giry watched the woman leave, then took the little cloth back and continued to wipe the girl's face off. "Mademoiselle Daae, that was not a very bright thing to do," she scolded. "It is not a good idea to anger the diva."

"I couldn't help it," the girl said quietly. She sniffled once more.

Madame Giry sighed, and stood, taking the girl's hand in her own. "Now. I have a box to clean, and you have practice to go to. We shall walk to your rooms with the girls. On the way, you will tell me what happened, yes?"

Reluctantly, the little girl nodded.

And despite my earlier wish to leave things in the capable hands of my box-keeper, I followed them.

After all, I wanted to see what on earth made her so upset.

And I had the greatest urge to thank her, somehow, for briefly putting our star soprano in her place.

* * *

A quick notice- if you listen carefully in the beginning of the movie, La Carlotta has only been their leading soprano for the past FIVE SEASONS. Therefore, there must have been at least one other diva during Christine's time in the Opera Populaire. Worry not, however- Carlotta will show up eventually. 

Please let me know what you think. Suggestions for improvement will be appreciated. Compliments are always welcome, of course. And flames... well, Erik _does_ need some food cooked. Grins Until next time, everyone.


	2. Chapter Two

Everything and Nothing

Notes- Thank you to Baffled Seraph, Misty Breyer, and Angel-of-Music1331 for the reviews. They made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Hopefully I'll keep up with your expectations. Enjoy the next chapter, everyone!

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Chapter Two: Only Half of It

Unfortunately, Madame Giry's conversation with little Mademoiselle Daae wasn't very enlightening.

"She said that my Angel doesn't exist," was the first thing that the girl had to mention.

"And why did she say that?" Madame Giry said.

"Because… um… no reason," she muttered.

"Mademoiselle," Madame Giry said warningly. "I shall have the truth from you or I shall make special use of my cane on both of you."

The young woman flinched. "I said her ghost doesn't exist." This was spoken so softly that it was a wonder that I not only heard it, but also understood it.

Madame Giry stopped abruptly, and whirled on the girl. "You did _what?_" she asked.

"I… ghosts don't exist," she said, scuffling her feet.

"My dear, how can your Angel exist if ghosts cannot?" Madame Giry said. "And you must be careful where and when you say that! What if the ghost heard you?"

"You mean it's true, Madame?" the young woman asked, incredulous.

"Yes, he does. And while he rarely has interest in the likes of us, you should take care that you don't catch his attention."

I blinked as she glanced upwards, and our eyes met briefly. To my surprise, she showed no dismay at my watching them; instead, her expression was wry.

"Is he dangerous, then, Madame? Does he steal away chorus girls and eat them like Meg said?" Mademoiselle Daae asked, with a horrid fascination in her features.

Once again, all I could do for a moment was blink in surprise. _Since when do I eat chorus girls?_ Something told me little Giry needed a talking to.

Madame Giry apparently shared my sentiment. "That is pure folly," she said sternly. "The ghost does no such thing. If he did, do you think I would allow my daughter to continue performing here? Or work here myself?"

Apparently, this hadn't occurred to the young woman. She lowered her eyes, scuffed her feet again, and mumbled something I could not catch.

"Now, you shall apologize to Meg, and she will apologize to you. You don't need enemies here, child, especially not over something so foolish."

"Yes, Madame," Mademoiselle Daae said softly.

"Good." Madame Giry softened slightly. "No one will question your Angel again, my dear. Just… do not speak of it so often, yes?"

"All right. It's just… Papa said-"

"I know."

The two continued down the hallway.

I watched them for a moment, debating as to whether or not I ought to follow them. Granted, I had nothing of immediate import to busy myself with. For some reason, my music had not been coming to me as easily as usual. Following a fit of rage where I destroyed ten pages of carefully-printed notes that had taken months to write, I had decided to leave it well alone until inspiration could find me once more. I had no need to acquire food anytime soon, and my salary was not required at this point. And harassing the managers, while highly amusing, was not something I could interest myself in at the moment.

Whatever I tried to think of was blocked by the look on little Daae's face when she murmured, "Papa said."

Growling slightly in frustration, I turned and made my way into the hidden passageways within the Opera House, winding my way towards the dorms.

The dorm rooms had not been built with the intention of housing anyone; they'd simply been less glamorous dressing rooms, made for those cast in smaller parts of Operas. Or, perhaps, private celebration rooms for after the Opera. Lord knows they'd been used for the latter purpose often enough, before the younglings had shown up. In any case, once the Opera House's managers found, to their dismay, that they had been unknowingly housing children, they ordered the walls between the dressing rooms knocked down.

While this annoyed me- after all, I had to cover my own hidden passages that had been placed around this area- it was comforting to know that I wouldn't be tripping over small persons in random areas in my theatre. That had happened too often for my comfort in the beginning, when I'd still been mastering the use of my passages.

When I finally found a proper place to watch the proceedings, I discovered that little Giry and the Daae girl had already made amends. Madame Giry stood, arms crossed and her eyes rolling while the two girls stood giggling together like nothing had happened.

Well, to be entirely truthful, little Giry was doing all of the unseemly giggling. Little Daae would smile, but she occasionally looked confused as though she wasn't sure whether little Giry was entirely sane. I spotted her glancing back at Madame Giry once or twice, as though silently asking if her conversation was permissible.

The other girls approached slowly from the beds. My best guess was that they had fled the moment Mademoiselle Daae had appeared, just in case an outburst occurred. Children seemed to have a bizarre fascination with people who were throwing fits. Anyhow, when they discovered that no more tears would be forthcoming, they joined in the conversation. I couldn't catch what they were going on about, but it involved a lot more of one sound that grated on my ears almost as much as a child's sniffling did.

I'm referring to the giggling, by the by. Not Madame Blanche's singing- that's definitely more annoying than any sound a child could make.

The girls continued to chatter on until Madame Giry clapped her hands twice. Instantly, all sounds ceased as the girls looked expectantly up at her.

"You all have practice in one half-hour. Prepare yourselves immediately," she said, assuming a stern expression. "And if I hear of any more outbursts from any of you today, all of you will enjoy two extra hours of practice tomorrow. I will make certain of it with your instructor."

A few of the less-fit girls flinched. Others sighed. Little Giry, Daae, and one or two of the others merely nodded.

Madame Giry turned on her heel and made her way out, back towards the boxes. As she went, I made a mental note to send her a gift soon. She certainly deserved it.

I was considering the idea of leaving as well- I had no interest in watching the younglings prepare themselves for their rehearsals- when Daae spoke up.

The young woman had a strange power over the others. Perhaps it was because she was new, but when she opened her mouth most of the other girls immediately quieted.

"Meg… Your mother said that the Ghost doesn't eat chorus girls."

"Oh, he doesn't?" one girl asked, looking vaguely disappointed.

Meg smiled. "Of course he doesn't. He kidnaps chorus girls. He doesn't hurt us, though. It's the _boys _he kills and eats."

To my bemusement, there were murmurs of "Oh," followed by nods of understanding.

"That makes sense. I don't like boys either," another girl announced.

"They smell funny," yet another piped up helpfully.

I rolled my eyes.

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Little Daae asked. "Boys I can believe. Girls, though…"

"So you believe in the Opera Ghost now?" Giry asked excitedly.

Mademoiselle Daae paused. "I… don't know," she admitted. "I think I'd have to see him to believe him."

"Ooh, don't say that! He's really scary looking!" the first girl said, looking stricken.

"What?"

"It's because of all the boys he eats," the third unnamed girl said knowingly. "They're bad for your skin. Like sweets can be bad for our skin."

"Ick. But I'd think boys would taste horrible," little Giry said, making a face.

_Oh, yes. I definitely need to speak with the Giry family soon._

"How is he scary?" Mademoiselle Daae asked.

"Well… Joseph Buquet, that weird man who gives us sweets to get him wine from the kitchens?" At Daae's nod little Giry continued, "He says that the Opera Ghost looks like a walking 'corpse'."

There was an awe-filled pause.

Then someone asked, "What's that?"

"Um…" Little Giry paused. "I'm not sure," she admitted.

"Ooh," the girls chorused, looking disappointed.

"Anyway, he's scary looking," little Giry announced. "So you don't want to see him. He's nice enough, I suppose- he helped me get into the ballet, after all, even when we were on hard times. And it's funny when he scares the managers…"

_One point in your favor, little Giry. Flattery shall spare you my wrath._

"Still," Mademoiselle Daae insisted quietly. "If I could see he was real, then maybe…"

"How about this: I promise to believe in your Angel, and you promise to believe in my Opera Ghost?" Little Giry looked triumphant at that suggestion.

Youngling Daae paused. "You mean you don't believe in him?" she asked, sounding disappointed.

"Nuh-uh. I've heard of angels, but I've never heard of your Angel. Or of any angels doing what yours is s'posed to do."

"What _are_ you talking about, then?" someone asked interestedly, a faint accent in her tone.

At that moment, someone pounded on the door.

"_Girls!_ Are you prepared!"

The girls scurried towards their respective areas, grabbing their outfits and hurriedly kicking off their shoes. "We're coming, Mam'selle," they chorused loudly.

"You have five minutes before I drag you out undressed! Understand?"

"Yes, Mam'selle," they replied.

As the group proceeded to actually get ready, I slipped away. However, while I left them in body, my mind remained firmly on little Giry and Mademoiselle Daae's conversation.

_So the youngling needs to see before she believes,_ I thought. _It's rather unfortunate that I don't put on private shows for the benefit of children._

But I couldn't help myself; I paused somewhere on the third cellar, with my hand just the tiniest distance from my hidden switch, while my mind presented an interesting idea.

I fought against it as hard as I could.

_Today was an amusing interlude in my otherwise lonely life. No more. I am not going to go gallivanting about my Opera House scaring little children. It doesn't matter if Mademoiselle Daae believes I exist or not._

But that wasn't entirely true.

_The young soul never laughed the entire time. Not when she made a fool out of Madame Blanche, not when she made up with little Giry… and that smile was about as substantial as… well, a ghost. She even looks like a wraith._

_Maybe I could give her a little life, or at least an appreciation for it. _

The idea began to slowly win over, teasing at the corners of my mind and pressing ever onward until finally I could do nothing but resign myself to it.

_I just need to find a time when she's alone…_

I blinked suddenly.

_I don't know her name._

Granted, I didn't know half of the people that came in and out of my Opera House. But for some reason, continuing to call her "Little Daae" didn't quite fit into my mind correctly. It was about as proper as calling Madame Giry by a ridiculous nickname.

That problem soon fit into my idea, and I couldn't help but smile at the simplicity of it.

Now, all I needed to do was find her alone…

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Right little barbarians those girls are, eh? Hope you enjoyed this installment. Until next time… Waves 


	3. Chapter Three

Everything and Nothing

Notes- Thank you to Baffled Seraph, JediofImladris, Reyana Draconis, and MoonDancerCat. You all made my day with your reviews. Oh, and I'm going for Erik being in his late twenties/early thirties here, so semi-movie ages. I agree that Erik doesn't have enough sweet moments. Thus, the prequel here. Enjoy the next chapter, and feel free to review again!

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Chapter Three: A Harmless Plot

It took a surprisingly long time for me to find Mademoiselle Daae alone. I am by nature an impatient man, so I had originally planned simply to knock over a chair or rattle some chains or some other nonsense within the day. After all, this was a child's fantasies I was humoring- if I got too creative with my plans, then I would surely scare the poor girl out of her wits. And I had no wish to do that; frightening children was certainly not on my to-do list.

But life (or my poor imitation of leading one) got in the way as soon as I left the little chorus girls to their rehearsals. I discovered that some idiot had stolen my gift to Madame Giry, and had to find the fellow and teach him to respect other people's things. As he wasn't a child, I was free to be as creative as I wished. I almost felt a twinge of pity for the poor man when he crawled home. But at least Madame Giry received her gift, so all was well.

Then I discovered that our lovely leading soprano, Madame Blanche, was bothering the stagehands. The men were attempting to clear up some of the older props and the like from the last few operas, and she had inexplicably appeared to get in the way as much as possible. It took three falling objects to scare her away, and by then I'd managed to pull a muscle in my arm from being careless in making sure I wasn't seen.

I spent a few days making certain my arm was well enough to handle my usual daily excursions, and went out to find out that Madame Blanche, thoroughly miffed at the falling objects, had decided to storm out of the Opera Populaire. It didn't create as big a problem as it would have during the actual season, but it did worry the managers, and I had to quickly write a letter to recommend a few singers before they made a serious blunder. What is it with managers and horrible singers? They go together so well, it seems…

Anyhow, then Madame Blanche returned and, upon spotting the temporary diva (one of my… _recommendations_, of course), immediately came back to work.

So it was about a week after my initial viewing of Mademoiselle Daae that I finally had the chance to see her again.

It was late afternoon when I found her; she and the other young women had just left their evening practice. Many of them looked exhausted, but little Giry, as always, was chattering endlessly.

Little Daae was trudging along, getting farther and farther behind. After a few moments, she gave up the pretense of following her fellow students and poked Meg in the arm.

"Ah! What!" Meg asked, rounding on her friend with an annoyed frown.

"I'm going," Mademoiselle Daae responded softly, eyes cast down.

Immediately, Meg's peeved expression softened. "All right. Come back before dinner this time, though. I'm not saving you dessert this time!"

Interesting. So this had been happening before?

I watched as Mademoiselle Daae nodded once, then turned and headed in the opposite direction. Little Giry did not follow her.

_My chance at last,_ I thought, and began to follow.

I couldn't help but notice that the child quickened her pace as soon as she was alone in the corridors. In fact, she was on the verge of running towards her destination, her eyes lighting up as a strange expression- hope? – crossed her face. Once, she passed by one of the older stagehands, but she didn't slow her pace. This surprised me, since as one of Madame Giry's wards she was bound to have been taught proper etiquette towards her elders.

It didn't take long for me to realize that she was headed towards the little chapel.

The chapel hadn't been there to begin with, either. The plans had never mentioned anything about putting something holy into my theatre. But, about two years after the Opera Populaire had been built, Madame Blanche had appeared with her husband-to-be- a mousy little man with a lot of money- and demanded to be married in my opera house. While I had quietly gagged in the shadows, she had announced that she thought the idea to be very romantic. Her husband had meekly concurred and ordered the most extravagant wedding possible- which wasn't hard, considering this was an opera house they were celebrating in.

Ever since, this tiny room had been left for those who worked here – just in case they couldn't get to church on time.

I slipped into a decent hiding space- behind a large painted glass window that had a few candles illuminating it from behind- just as Mademoiselle Daae entered the room. Her eyes were still wide and bright- the most cheerful expression I'd seen on her face yet.

She paused just after entering, examining the room as though she'd never been here before. Then, she moved towards a small altar where a few candlesticks lay, and glanced back behind herself.

After a moment, she slowly pulled out a candle that was similar to the others in size and shape, but was an obviously different color.

"Maybe he'll like this one," she said to the room, and set the small candle up on one of the empty stands.

I raised an eyebrow. Just what on earth…?

Carefully, she lit the candle she'd brought in, and a waft of… something resembling perfume… drifted towards my hiding place.

I covered the horrid hole that served as my nose, almost gagging on the scent. It was too strong to be pleasant, especially in such a small room! And thanks to said strength of the… fragrance.. I couldn't even place it!

As I attempted to keep my composure, little Daae knelt on both knees before the little altar and brought her hands up for prayer, her head bowed.

For a moment, all was completely still.

_Now's my chance,_ I decided. After all, I had no interest in religion, and this wasn't a true church in any case. There would be no harm in blowing out a few of the candles- all but hers, I thought irrationally. It would be cruel to mess with her candle, after the trouble she'd apparently taken to sneak it in here. Though how she'd hidden it in her clothing during her daily practice was beyond me.

I moved towards one of the nearest candles.

Just as I started to act out my plan, she lifted her head, eyes closed, and began to sing a common children's lullaby.

I stilled.

I had heard hundreds of people sing in my lifetime. Most of them were horrid. Some of them did not realize they were horrible- indeed, they thought they were incredible!- and sought to become the next diva. Others were merely competent, good enough to sing in a chorus. Much fewer were still in the choirs of the world, but were allowed a solo or two to show off their fine voice- the only reason they can't be the lead being that they can't hit the high notes. And then, one in a million, there was someone who had perfect pitch, who could hit the high notes, who could tug at a person's heartstrings after only the first measure had been sung.

Little Daae was that one in a million.

Her voice was undeveloped, was slightly nasal as many children's voices are, and she sometimes sang the wrong notes. But her tone was clear, and the wrong notes were hit quite deliberately- like she believed they were the correct ones.

And, wonder of wonders, her face when she sang…!

How open that little face was! How hopeful her expression, how pure and light her enjoyment of singing was… Even if I hadn't been able to hear her, my heart would have felt like it would burst.

My heart… I hadn't realized it was still working properly.

It was pounding now, as the simple little lullaby finished and she continued to stare upwards, hopeful and determined…

Silence rang through this entire wing of the Opera Populaire.

Slowly, the light in her eyes dimmed. Her shoulders slumped, and her head began to bow. Her hands, clasped so tightly together as she sang, fell into her lap.

"Papa said you would come if I worked hard enough, after he went to heaven," she murmured into the small room. "Papa said that you would inspire me, and help me become the best singer ever. I"ve been working so hard. I've tried so much… I bought you a candle!"

Normally, I would have laughed at such a statement. But she said it so earnestly… I listened on.

"And yet… you don't come. Oh Angel of Music, if I'm not good enough, why don't you just say so? Then I won't bother you ever again. Maybe Papa was just being nice. But maybe.. maybe I'm doing all right! Angel.. please, talk to me?"

The room remained silent, as all of my decisions to play the mischievous ghost disappeared from my mind. A new idea was already forming in their stead.

An Angel of Music! So that was what her father had promised her; that an Angel would descend from the heavens to teach her how to sing properly!

I considered the idea, let it grow within my mind. My only beauty was my voice, I knew; I had the power to make anyone do what I wished them to, make them feel as I decided they should. This little child just wanted a visit from the Angel. Something to make her day. Something to give her hope, because her Papa was obviously gone now by how she spoke of him. I hadn't heard anything about a mother, but considering that Madame Giry had taken her in as her ward, well…

_All alone in the world,_ I thought, saddened by such a thing. _And all you want is a little hope…_

Bah, a ghost would just frighten her away. By the way she was acting, a ghost's appearance would probably convince her to give up on singing. And that would be a greater crime than anything I had done in the past- this girl could easily become the next diva in my theatre. Could easily have the world bow at her feet, have all the pleasures she could dream of. All she needed was something to keep her going.

_Maybe even… someone to teach her- no! This is a one-time circumstance, _I told myself sharply. _I am not trusting anyone with my heart again. I remember too well what happened to me before. No, I will make a short appearance as her Angel. Then I will go on with my life. This will be my way of thanking her for that amusing afternoon encounter with Madame Blanche._

During my inner conflict, the little girl had started to let her lower lip quiver, and her eyes started to tear up. Alarmed, I moved to take action before she decided to start screaming again.

Gently, I began to blow out candles near her as I had planned before- all but hers- and began to hum.

The lip quivering stopped.

There were only five other candles lit within the room other than hers, and I had only three to go. Two to go.

Her eyes widened.

One to go.

"W-w-what…" she stammered, as the last of the normal candles went out.

I let her sit in silence for a moment, staring at her candle. Then, I began to sing to her, softly, gradually allowing my voice to grow in volume. I cast my voice about, until it settled on and appeared to be coming from her little candle.

"Child, I have come to you

Prepared, ready to take you

Under my wing…"

"Oh, my God," she breathed, staring at the candle.

"The time has come,

At last for you

To learn to sing…"

"Is it the Angel?"

"Child, your father came to me,

And I am here to show you how

Things ought to be…"

"It's the Angel of Music!"

"I, I am your Angel

And I am here

It's your turn now,

Dearest girl,

Time to work

At what you yearn for…"

"Angel!" she gasped. "You're here! You're here!" She jumped up to her feet and went as close to the candle as she could without burning herself. "Oh, you do exist! You do exist!"

Softly, changing the tune, I replied:

"I am your Angel of Music…

And you are my pupil as of now..

I am your Angel of Music…

Come to your strange Angel, child…"

"Christine! Christine!"

I fell silent. _So that's her name, _I thought, even as I fought to control my irritation.

"Angel?" she whispered. "Where'd you go? Angel?"

"Christine!"

She turned, and I looked up to see Madame Giry entering the room. Wonderful, an interruption…

The box-keeper took a good look about the room, noting the lone candle burning brightly on the altar. "Christine, you should not blow out other people's candles," she said reprovingly. "They light them the same reason you do."

"But, Madame, I-"

I moved my voice to her left ear, and whispered, "Secret… secret…"

The little girl swallowed. Then she nodded once. "Apologies, Madame."

"Very well. You are done for today?"

Little Daae nodded.

"Good. Then come with me, Mademoiselle. Or do you wish for Meg to eat your dinner as well?"

The young lady cast one look back at her candle before saying, "No, Madame." Then, obediently, she followed the older woman out of the room. She didn't look back again, but I could tell that something had changed about her already.

Her shoulders were straight. Her eyes had glowed when she had stared at the candle. Her voice was louder than before, slightly more confident.

Yes, I had made her day for her. And I had repaid her for the service she had (unwittingly) done for me a week ago.

But as I made my way down towards my sanctuary, my job done for the day, I couldn't help but wonder why I kept making plans to visit her in the dorms while she slept tonight…

* * *


	4. Chapter Four

Everything and Nothing

Notes- The first thing Christine sings in here is to the tune of "I remember there was mist…" The second is "Angel of Music." Thanks to MoonDancerCat for reviewing!

* * *

Chapter Four: In Dreams He Came 

I discovered two things the night after I introduced myself to little Daae as her Angel of Music.

One was that swearing at yourself doesn't help matters; in fact, it tends to make you angrier.

Two was that little girls are almost unbearably adorable when they're asleep, regardless of how they really act when they're awake.

It was ridiculous how little discipline I was exerting upon myself. Only a few hours ago I had decided that I had given her what she had wanted, and that was that. Only a few minutes ago, I had firmly told myself that I was going to spend the evening reading one of my newer books and sipping some wine by the fire. Only two minutes ago, I had paused in one of my dark passages and announced to my surroundings that this was foolish and I was going home and to bed.

Now I stood in a darkened room, where the only light came from an open window. Ten girls slept crowded together in this room, all on separate tiny cots that probably wouldn't fit them in a year or so. Their belongings were _everywhere_ underfoot- as though they had decided to dump all of the sharpest and hardest objects on the floor right before climbing into bed.

I must say it made a remarkable security system- I was now nursing a stubbed toe and a sore heel.

Little Daae lay asleep before me. Her face was calm and untroubled in the night, giving me an irrational feeling that all was well in the world.

The hell it was. What on earth was I thinking, standing in a room filled with little girls who could, at any moment, wake up and start screaming?

Of course, the answer was that I hadn't been thinking.

I sighed, and watched as the young lady shifted slightly. Why _was_ I here…?

One of the other girls let out a soft groan, and I stiffened. However, she was soon quiet again, and I could relax.

Carefully, I picked a few of their belongings off of a nearby stool and seated myself on it, cursing my stupidity as I went along. I made certain to remember each belonging and where it had been placed on the stool, so that I would not alarm anyone when they awoke the next morning. The last thing I wanted right now was to have them all running about saying they had been visited by the Ghost in the night.

Though if I played my cards right, I could make everyone think that Buquet had-

I shoved the thought away, disgusted with myself. That was an idea that I would never inflict on young children. Ever.

Mademoiselle Daae sighed, and a small frown crossed her face.

I glanced up towards the cot that was next to hers; little Giry's bed, which was empty for tonight. She and her mother had departed for their house, as they usually did whenever they had the chance. Young Giry, I noted with bemusement, had forgotten her sleeping doll. Certainly she was quite unhappy about it right now, though I highly doubted that her mother would do anything about it. After all, the time had already passed midnight. And Madame Giry was quite the no-nonsense woman.

I returned my gaze to my charge, and frowned slightly as she gave a soft whimper. Something was definitely troubling her in her sleep now. Her eyes were moving rapidly beneath the lids, and her small hands were twitching and clutching at the small blanket that served as her covers.

It wasn't cold tonight, so she couldn't have been uncomfortable from the weather.

I felt a moment of shame. It had been mentioned by people before that the Opera Ghost not only looked like death, but smelled like it. I was not aware of such a thing, but… what if that was…?

But no. If anything, when she began to move more violently in her sleep, she moved towards me, not away. I felt a surge of relief along with concern.

Perhaps, I could….

_No. Absolutely not. That is not to be considered. Not here, not now, _I told myself firmly.

My mind continued along the same vein.

_Damn it._

I leaned over little Daae's bed, careful not to get too near, but also careful not to be too loud.

Softly, I began to sing into her ear.

It was a wordless song, a tune that I remembered coming up with on a day when I had been in inexplicably good spirits. I remember that I had actually _whistled_ the tune that time- a thing that I almost never did. I recall only whistling once or twice before in my entire life.

For a moment, nothing seemed to change on little Daae's face, and I feared that, again, I may be the cause of her discomfort in her sleep.

But then, slowly, her expression relaxed, and her hands stopped twitching. As I sang the tiniest bit louder, she gave out a little sigh…

And gave the most heart-wrenching smile I'd ever seen on any face in my life.

I stopped singing, staring at that face in wonderment. _Did I do that?_ I wondered.

A stifled gasp alerted me to the fact that I was not the only one awake in this room.

My eyes shot upwards, to the door. It had opened while I had been focusing on Mademoiselle Daae, and now a figure stood in the doorway.

That figure was Madame Giry.

I stood up straight, one hand automatically going to the Punjab lasso hidden away in my pocket. The other went to check that my mask was firmly in place.

"Monsieur," she said quietly, eyes wide.

"Madame," I greeted her in the same tone.

She looked down at little Daae, then back up at me. Then she glanced towards her daughter's cot. "I… my daughter, she…" she said, gesturing helplessly towards the little doll.

I nodded. "As you say, Madame."

She went to the little cot and picked up the doll, her eyes never leaving me. Mine never left her as she moved, waiting for the moment when she let the whole Opera House know what the ghost was up to.

But she never did.

She carefully took the doll into her arms and began to back away, watching me.

"Madame," I said.

She stopped.

"You will not speak of this."

Madame Giry paused. Then she nodded. "I will not speak of this unless you harm her," she said firmly.

I gritted my teeth, fighting down anger. "I would never lay a finger on her," I began, but she stopped me.

"There is more than one way to hurt a child, Monsieur." With a small nod of respect, my box-keeper closed the door. Once again, I was surrounded by naught but sleeping girls and their toys.

For a moment, I merely stood there, considering her words. More than one way to hurt- of course. She meant with words. With my voice.

But the thought of harming any young child, especially little Daae, was so incredibly alien to me that I couldn't take her words seriously. Harm a child. Oh, please…

I sat down where I had been before, and continued to sing into the young lady's ear…

* * *

I watched as the girls were roused the next morning, rubbing my eyes wearily with one hand. Rather foolishly, I had chosen to spend almost the entire night at little Daae's bedside, singing into her ear whenever the slightest hint of a frown passed over her face in her sleep. After Madame Giry, I had been the only conscious person in the room, and had gradually relaxed as the time had passed until I saw the false dawn beginning outside the window. 

Mademoiselle Daae was one of the last to wake; one of her friends had to shake her to force her back into consciousness.

Then, to my surprise, I watched as wonder settled on her face.

She wound up being the last of the girls to leave the room and head for practice, so for a moment we were alone; I in hiding, and she in her own little world.

Then, she began to sing;

"I remember there was light…

Glowing light that chased the darkness away.

There was happiness, good cheer

And there was song all through the night

And the song came from an angel…"

I couldn't help but smile at her sense of awe. So she had heard me, and remembered. Once again, I felt an irrational sense that all was well in the world.

_What's going on with me?_ I wondered as she left the room.

Then I realized as I heard her sing;

"Thank you, oh Angel,

Guide and guardian,

Granting me your glory,

Angel of Music,

Thank you kindly,

For helping me sleep well…"

I couldn't quite place my finger on it, but I had the sudden feeling that things were going to get very interesting for me, and very soon.

_Well, since I'm supposed to teach her music, I'd better find some children's songs to work with…_

But first, sleep called to me. Yes, sleep was a good idea. It was the best thought I'd had in the last twenty-four hours. Perhaps even the only thought...

* * *


	5. Chapter Five

Everything and Nothing

Notes- Thank you to pemberlee, MoonDancerCat, GoldenLyre, and Ryushi Nagami. To the last person on this list: Yes, I AM on a Phantom writing streak, but I'm getting back to work on the Bishie story. Honest. I will post eventually, I've just been on a writer's block on that for the longest time, and had a need to write some fluff. Hope you all enjoy the next installment!

* * *

Chapter Five: In Which Lessons Begin

Unfortunately, my attempts at buying children's songs failed.

It had been long enough since I last slipped out to get provisions, so I added the music to my list of things to buy. But when I reached my usual shop, no children's songs were to be found. Upon questioning the shopkeeper, I only received a strange look. So I sighed and picked up some of the simplest songs I could find, resolving to compose some damn music if it came to that. I had a pupil, and I was not going to work with her on anything less than the best I could do.

I considered writing a letter to Madame Giry about the children's songs, but decided against it. Certainly, she knew of my interest in Mademoiselle Daae- how could she not, after last night? But for some reason, the fact that she would learn the details of my plan made me uncomfortable. I'd never lied to anyone in the Opera House before, except perhaps for those outrageous threats I occasionally sent the managers… But the thought of explaining my deception to Madame Giry, a woman I respected, was enough to make me squirm like a guilty schoolboy.

So the night after Christine Daae woke up singing happily to herself, I worked on memorizing the pieces I'd bought and coming up with lesson plans for her. I had to remember little Daae couldn't be more than nine years old, and a very average girl despite her voice potential. The lessons had to be short and concise, or I would lose her attention- Angel or no Angel.

Two days after I proclaimed myself to be her Angel of Music, I found Mademoiselle Daae in the little chapel. She was praying, of course, but the candle she'd used before was gone. In its place was one of the usual ones; one, thankfully, with no scent.

I paused to watch her for a moment. For a while, I had thought about bringing up my violin to play the music I wanted to teach her. But after trying to play it, I winced and set it aside. No, I would have to perfect my skills before using that. My voice would do for now.

A little frown scrunched up her otherwise smooth forehead, making it apparent that she was thinking very hard about something.

I couldn't help but smile at that face, which surprised me; I was not one to smile so often. Yet, with Mademoiselle Daae around…

I shook my head, and softly began to sing.

Her head snapped up a moment later. "Angel?" she asked quietly, awed.

I continued to sing, wordlessly.

"You came back," she said wonderingly.

I stopped.

"No, no, that's good! I'm glad you came back!" she added. "I just… didn't expect you to come to me again."

I bit back a sarcastic comment about the Spanish Inquisition; doubtless it would have earned me nothing more than a blank stare. "My dear, how are you supposed to learn how to sing properly without my teaching?" I asked gently.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as I began to speak- speak, not sing- and one hand covered her mouth in her surprise. "Oh!" was her reply. I imagine that if she hadn't already been kneeling, she would have knelt at that moment.

"Fear not, my child. I am your Angel, and I am here to teach you. Shall we begin your lesson now?"

Her eyes were so wide and she was so still that I worried that perhaps I had broken her somehow, making her shock so powerful that she couldn't produce any sound at all. But, a moment later, she was nodding her head. "Yes, oh please! Yes! Teach me, Angel of Music!"

"Very well."

I started her on simple scales, like the ones Monsieur Reyer had been giving them when he had time away from the actual performers to teach them.

"Follow my voice and do as I do," I told her. Then, after a moment, I began. _"Do Re Mi F-_"

And the worst of luck happened to me. The worst thing that could ever happen to a musician who is performing, be it before a private audience or in the public.

Yes, my voice cracked.

It was a miniscule one, thankfully, but she seemed to notice it nonetheless. Her eyes widened in surprise as I quieted.

"Angel-" she began.

"Tell me what was wrong with that scale, and then sing it correctly," I said quickly, thankful that no one could see my face reddening.

She paused, blinking. "Oh," she said. "So you meant to do that?"

"Of course, my dear. I am the Angel of Music. Everything I do is completely intentional."

"Oh!" she repeated, relaxing. "That's all right then."

"I'm pleased you approve. Now, the scale," I prompted.

And the lesson continued.

Until of course, I had to eat my words about everything I did being intentional when I accidentally used the wrong rhythm in one of the children's songs I'd elected to teach her. And she had to point out to me that nobody sang it in such a way.

I had the last word, of course. After a moment of silence, she quickly added that she liked my way better anyhow, and wondered if I could teach her "my way".

But overall, the lesson went well for a first time. Mademoiselle Daae was attentive- much more so than I would normally expect from a young child. Yes, both of us were more than a tad uneasy, learning each other's voices and knowledge and talent. Yet as I bade her goodnight, I had apparently done something right in my teaching, despite my mess-ups in the first hour.

"Angel?" she asked quietly after we'd finished our last song. "Are you still there?"

"I am always here, my child," I replied, turning back from the passage I'd been about to enter.

"Um…"

She fidgeted, and I wondered what could possibly be wrong. Though I had not known her long, I did know that for her to be so awkward was unusual. Quiet, yes. Awkward, no.

"What is it?" I pressed gently.

"It's very silly, Angel."

"I'll decide if it is so, my child."

She paused. "Well, it's just that… You know who I am and I know who you are," she began. "But Papa said that you always had to introduce yourself to someone. And I haven't introduced myself to you."

I sighed in relief. "Is that what is bothering you?"

She nodded.

"Well, then by all means my dear, feel free to lighten your burden."

She smiled. "All right!" She stood up and proceeded to curtsy at the candles. "How do you do? I'm Christine Daae," she said brightly.

And yet again, the child managed to bring a smile to my face. "How do you do?" I responded politely, a touch of my humor in my voice. "I'm the Angel of Music."

She clapped her hands delightedly. "Nice to meet you!" Then she blushed. "I know that was silly of me-"

"Never forget your manners, my dear. Manners are good allies when you are meeting new people."

Christine nodded.

"Now, I will see you tomorrow, at the same time. You have rehearsal early tomorrow, so I expect you to be prompt."

Again, she nodded. "Yes, Angel."

"Good."

"Good-bye, Angel," she said softly.

"Good-bye, my dear Christine," I whispered back, then began my descent.

It wasn't until I'd reached my lair that I stopped and wondered when I'd begun to call her Christine.

* * *


	6. Chapter Six

Everything and Nothing

Notes- Thank you to BaffledSeraph, killinjoke, MoonDancerCat, Chocobo Surprise, erm… Shadray (all right, I'll update those as soon as I can), Angel-of-Music1331, and Tango1. To Tango1; I'm glad you enjoyed what you've read so far. The story's main purpose is to give people a warm fuzzy concerning Phantom of the Opera, which I believe a number of phans crave. I also wanted to give Erik and Christine some happy times together, before everything… well, you all know the story. But I am really happy to hear that I'm more or less keeping everyone in character.

* * *

Chapter Six: A Plan Set Into Motion..

It was astounding how quickly time seemed to pass over the next two weeks. Christine was as apt a pupil I could hope for, considering her age. After all, one could not expect children to have more than a fifteen-second attention span at any given time. Unless, of course, you had food as a bribe. In which the attention span lengthened to an entire twenty seconds.

Unfortunately, the Angel of Music was not well known for his cooking, so I could not use that as a way to keep the young girl's attention.

Christine handled the new change to her daily schedule and the new addition to her life with remarkable ease. I cannot recall being so accepting of anything when I was that age, but the youngling took many things in stride that I would have been outraged about. When her instructor decided to punish the girls one day with a late-night practice (they'd pulled what I thought to be harmlessly funny pranks on some stagehands), she only sighed and nodded.

I found myself sitting at my organ as often as before, but my mind would be elsewhere, imagining what Mademoiselle Daae could possibly be up to. I would have arguments with myself over the idea of going up to check on her at odd times during the day. She was in no particular danger, and she was not ill. There was no reason to visit her other than during our lessons.

Yet…

More and more frequently, I would groan, mutter a few curses, and give in to my wish to see how she was doing.

My vocabulary has certainly been getting more creative lately.

But Madame Blanche was getting testy, as the management was dithering about putting on a new production. And of course, the group of future ballet dancers was getting tired of behaving.

It was only a matter of time before little Giry came up with something to occupy herself, if not also my new pupil…

* * *

I happened to be watching the day that little Giry approached Christine with a plan.

At first, Christine did not do much but blink in surprise. Then, slowly, she said, "The Ghost lives under the Opera Populaire?"

"Of course he does. The roof's too cold," little Giry said matter-of-factly. "Anyhow, he lives under the stage somewhere. So if we go down there, we should be able to find out where he haunts. And then I'll prove the Opera Ghost exists!"

While little Giry looked positively gleeful about this, my pupil seemed doubtful. Bless her.

"I don't know, Meg," she said slowly. "We're not supposed to go down there. Your mama said that we'd bother the stagehands if we did…"

"Aw, they don't have to know! We're not putting on any operas right now, so nobody stays about once it's sundown!" little Giry said. "All we have to do is wait until we're sent to bed."

"But your mama always checks on us."

"Christine!" little Giry said, sounding mildly offended. "I'm not stupid, you know. I've thought of everything! We can set up some pillows and things like that to look like us while we sleep."

"Ooh," Christine responded thoughtfully. "Well, if we're not gonna get caught, then I guess it will be all right..."

"Of course! So we go down there, I show you the Opera Ghost, and then we come back up and go to bed," little Giry said brightly.

Christine looked up, and to my surprise she wound up staring at almost the exact spot that I was hiding. "Um…"

I shook my head, hoping that though she couldn't see me, she may somehow feel that this wasn't a good idea. _You don't want to go down there,_ I thought at the two girls.

My mind filled with horrors at the thought of Christine venturing into the world beneath the Opera Populaire. All of the traps I had laid out… the water, the labyrinth that sometimes even got me lost. I, who had traversed every step of every path too many times to count! These young girls wouldn't stand a chance down there. No, it would be best if Christine could get herself out of this before anything happened.

"Well?" little Giry asked impatiently.

Christine nodded. "Yes, let's go!"

I groaned.

"Wonderful! Let's go tonight!"

"What? Tonight?" Christine asked. "But we've got testing tomorrow!"

"In the afternoon," little Giry reminded her.

"Oh," Christine said.

There was a pause as my pupil registered this.

"All right, but we have to take a light with us," Christine said.

"Well of course! The last time I went out without a light, that weird man Buquet scared me," little Giry said, glancing about.

"He scares me in full daylight," Christine remarked.

Young Meg paused. "You know, he scares me all the time too," she admitted. "But especially at night if you don't have a light."

"So, a light. And we can't go too far down. Your mama said there's a lake down there, and I don't know how to swim," Christine said. "What time are we going tonight?"

The two younglings laid out their plans, and headed off for supper.

* * *

I did my best to get Christine alone for a while to talk her out of this idea, but unfortunately tonight the other little dancers were convinced that it was time for Madame Giry to tell them all a story. I could hardly write a note to Christine- she couldn't read, from what I could see- and it wouldn't do to have anyone notice that the Angel of Music and the Phantom had the same handwriting…

Sitting at my organ with some music propped up to play, I rested my chin on my hands as I wracked my brain for a way out of this. I didn't want to scare Christine away from her newfound Angel. And I didn't want to cause lasting harm to little Giry. The thought of her being harmed in Christine's place held just as much horror for me as my earlier worries.

Then…

_Perhaps…_

A small idea came to mind. The only time I would be able to get to Christine and little Giry would be once they were attempting to travel down my paths. The paths themselves weren't too dangerous if one had a lamp, until about the second floor down. If I could intercept them, rattle a few chains, that sort of thing…

After all, while I didn't want them harmed or frightened for the rest of their lives, I did want to give the girls a show. And I did want to encourage them not to invite themselves into my domain anymore.

In a matter of moments, I was already back in my home beneath the Opera Populaire, writing out a few ideas.

_If they want to meet an Opera Ghost, then they shall meet the Opera Ghost indeed! _I thought.

And despite my concerns about frightening Christine too badly, I began to grin mischievously. After all, it had been a while since I'd had this sort of fun…


	7. Chapter Seven

Everything and Nothing

Notes- Thanks to musicismylife, Midnight Tango, Dernhelm, Kat097, ShapeintheShadows, Usorokoaemo, Tango1 and ReganX for your lovely reviews. I'm glad you're all enjoying this!

* * *

Chapter Seven: Plans In Motion

I stepped back from my handiwork and smiled in satisfaction at what I saw.

It had taken me a while to come up with a finalized plan, but really, some of those old cliches are as true as they can get. Simple is sometimes the best route to take. The plan, therefore, was as simple as I could make it.

After all, these were little girls I was going off to scare. I didn't want to frighten them all the way out of the Opera Populaire, or I'd lose my one and only student. All I needed was... well, this, and then my privacy would be guaranteed. And I was fairly certain that Christine wouldn't be too frightened of this...

I heard a chime ring, and went to pick up my costume. Glancing at the clock, I realized that it was far past the young girl's bedtimes- far past anyone's bedtimes in the Opera Populaire. Surely by now, the only people awake would be myself and the two young girls.

Slipping into my costume and picking up my torch (as yet unlit), I made my way out onto my boat, preparing myself for what was to come.

* * *

The girls were already nervous when I found them, and they hadn't even started yet.

They stood close together in a corridor that led to a set of stairs that allowed the stagehands to go directly beneath the stage during the productions, cluthing each other's hands. Meg held a little lantern in one hand, squinting into the darkness, while Christine focused solely on the light and on crushing little Giry's hand as best she could.

"All right," little Giry said. "Here we go. Ready?"

"No," Christine replied shakily.

Did I mention that she was a brilliant little thing?

"Come on, Christine," Giry whined. "You promised you'd go through this with me."

"But it's so dark," Christine said, peeking into their surroundings warily.

"That's why I brought the light," Meg said, exasperated. "Come on, it shouldn't take too long, and I'm here with you. Besides, if we see the Ghost, think of how jealous the other girls will be!"

"I'm jealous of them," Christine muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Good. So let's go." Meg turned towards the stairs, and proceeded to lead a reluctant Christine down towards my domain.

I waited until they got onto the stairs. Then I slipped into a passageway that would send me a little ways ahead of them. This was going to be interesting...

Sure enough, I was a few seconds ahead of Christine and little Meg. I sent up a blessing for my pupil again, as she was making it hard for Giry to walk faster than at a snail's pace. It gave me plenty of time to prepare myself for the first part of the plan.

I started by murmuring into the silence. What I murmured, even I am not entirely certain; it was mostly just babbling, with only a slightly threatening lilt to the tone.

But it caught the girls' attention nonetheless.

"Do you hear that?" Christine asked, eyes wide. She dug in her heels and squeezed at Meg's hand when the other young girl didn't respond at first. When little Giry turned, looking mildly irritated, my pupil repeated her question, sounding slightly more panicked.

Meg had a slightly different reaction. "It's the ghost! See, I told you it wouldn't take long! Come on!" she replied enthusiastically.

I stopped murmuring and waited a bit. The two soon started walking, though Christine walked a little behind Giry as though using her friend as a shield.

After a few moments, I picked up a cane- an old prop from a production done years ago- and proceeded with the plan.

"Christine, stop that."

"Stop what?"

"That!"

"I'm not doing anything." Christine said, sounding puzzled.

"You're poking me."

"I am not."

"You are too. On my right side."

"But I'm on your left side."

"Stop it."

Christine sighed.

Then, "EEK! Meg, that's not funny!"

Meg stopped. "What's not funny?"

"Telling me not to poke you and then you poking me!"

"What? I'm not poking you! I'm in front of you!"

Not to mention both of your hands are full, my dear, I thought, retreating into another passageway to commence with the next bit of the plan.

"But... if you're not poking me..." Christine stopped again.

Meg turned to look at her, a priceless expression growing on her face. "And if you weren't poking me," she continued.

"Then.."

The two stared at each other for a long moment.

I chose that moment to blow their lantern out.

Both shrieked in surprise, and there was a crash- I guessed the lantern had been dropped, because little Giry suddenly started wailing about her foot. I couldn't see much but outlines at the moment, so all I could visibly discern was that Christine was trying to drag little Giry back the way they had come.

Oh no, my dear, you haven't seen the show yet, I thought with a mischievous grin spreading across my own face.

It was time for the real bit of the show to begin.

"Who dares enter my domain?" I boomed, casting my voice about in the passage so that it was impossible to tell where it was coming from.

Both girls gasped. It was almost comical how loudly they did it; almost as though we were in an Opera.

"Well?" I demanded.

"It's the Ghost!" Christine squeaked.

"I know that," little Giry hissed at her.

"What do we do!"

"Hope he doesn't try and eat us!"

I grinned. "Are you boys or are you girls? The Opera Ghost demands a prompt answer!"

"Uh- uh- um... what!" Meg asked.

"Meg, let's go! Please!" Christine begged.

"We're girls!" little Giry said loudly. "Christine, stop yanking on me. Ow, my foot.."

"Girls! I think you're lying to me. Girls are too smart to wander into my domain. Boys, however.." I let loose as evil a cackle as I could manage. It faltered slightly when I almost went into a coughing fit, but it seemed to frighten them properly.

"Yeek! Meeeeg!" Christine whined.

"We're girls! We're not lying!" Meg said. "Christine, OW! You're stepping on my foot!"

"You know, I don't like it when little boys lie to me," I said in a scolding tone, slipping my torch out from under my costume and readying to light it. "Do you know what I do to little boys?"

"We're girls! Really! We are!" Christine squeaked. "Please, let us go! We didn't mean-"

"Christine, shut up! Monsieur Ghost-"

"I like to EAT LITTLE BOYS!" I roared, just as my torch was set on fire.

The light flared up as I dropped it to the ground, cackling again.

The girl's eyes were larger than any child's ball I'd seen. Their mouths were just as wide open.

They stared.

I cackled some more.

They continued to stare.

I stepped forward.

They began to scream, Christine only slightly louder than Meg.

The funny thing was, they just stood there. Screaming. And they didn't move, even with me cackling and waving my arms around.

At least, not until I took another step forward and said, "Mm, boys who smell like little girls. You should taste delicious!"

Christine bolted for safety. Meg followed right behind.

It took a while for me to get myself under control afterwards, wiping tears of mirth from my face with the edge of my costume.

Then I went to see where they'd gone and if all was all right.

* * *

"-and then he started for us!" Meg exclaimed.

The other girls in the dorm room oohed and aahed appreciatively as I took a seat in one of my favorite hiding spots.

Christine and little Giry sat on a bed in the center of the room, with the rest of the young girls surrounding them. Christine was very pale from her experience, and as far as I could tell, she had yet to let go of little Giry's hand. I think said hand was turning blue from lack of circulation.

"What did he look like?" one of the girls asked, looking quite awed.

"He was all white," Christine whispered.

"Like pale?" another girl prompted.

"No, pure white! Like our sheets!" little Giry said, pointing at their bedsheets.

They all looked.

"Actually, they're kinda yellow-y," someone observed.

"Well, he was white like our sheets USED to be," Meg said.

"Oooh," the girls chorused.

"What else?" the first girl asked.

"He was all flowy; you could only see his arms, no legs," little Giry continued.

"And he had a black tophat on," Christine supplied.

"A tophat? Really!" one of the girls asked. "So he does dress in evening clohes.."

The girls oohed and aaahed again.

I couldn't help but laugh.

All the girls in the room jerked, and I immediately clamped my hand over my own mouth, mentally cursing at my stupidity. Wonderful, they'd heard me. Now what...?

"Is that the ghost?" one of the younger girls asked fearfully.

"Go look," Meg told her.

"But-"

"Go on! You said it first, so you get to look," another girl said sternly.

The little one gulped- she couldn't have been more than six- but obeyed, creeping over to the door slowly.

Upon reaching it, it took her at least a full minute to touch the doorknob.

Then she gasped.

"Meg! Your mama's coming! Everyone, in bed! Quick!"

They all hurried off to bed as I heard Madame Giry's footsteps echo in the hallway outside the door.

Taking this as my cue to leave, I headed down to my home.

Then I laughed- for the second time not only this night, but in my life- until tears came to my eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

Everything and Nothing

Notes- Thanks to LenisVox, ShapeintheShadows, Mominator, Masqueraders, Aliyu, Queen Sarah, Darkness carrier, AOM, anonymous, Chamomile Lady, Erin Sovenya, Tango1, ReganX, Razzy, MercuryKitten, Rikku Ree, and Kute Anime Kitty for your reviews. I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this story. To Queen Sarah: the tune Erik sings to Christine when he reveals himself is not a PotO tune at all. Apologies for not mentioning it earlier, but it happens to be a tune from the musical Jane Eyre. The song is called "Brave Enough For Love"- the last song on the soundtrack. Though the ending of it sort of deviates from that tune as well.

* * *

Chapter Eight: An Unpleasant Occurrence

"That's not how you play!" Meg protested, rubbing her nose.

"It is, too," Christine retorted, sitting up and crossing her arms over her chest with a pout.

"You can't go back after you say you'll do something. That's breaking a promise!"

"I'm not going to kiss Buquet," Christine said stubbornly. "He's ugly, and he scares me."

"But you promised!" Meg insisted.

"I did not."

"You did too. Saying you'll do a dare is a promise."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"I'm not doing it."

"I can make you," Meg threatened.

"Can not."

"Can too!"

"Can – EEEEK!"

I grinned wryly as Meg launched a tickle attack against my little pupil, sending the two of them to the floor with a thud. The two were playing alone for once, in Box Seven while Madame Giry took care of cleaning out Box Five. The rest of the girls were elsewhere- most likely in the children's dormitory, gossiping or telling stories.

"Meg- eek!- stoooop!"

"Not until you do your dare!" Meg declared, then squealed in surprise as Christine launched her counterattack.

I shook my head and went back to a sketch I'd been working on for the last few minutes. It was simple, childlike work, really, but I suppose that made sense- the subject being a child herself.

"Meeeg!"

The two continued to tussle about, knocking over a chair without noticing- thankfully it didn't land on them- and messing up the carpeting. I continued to watch, quickly sketching down my subject's features.

I really had to thank little Giry for deciding to 'attack', however torturous it was to my pupil. In the past two months since I'd first taken notice of Christine, I had never really heard her laugh or seen her smile like this. It was a wondrous gift to watch, compared to her usual somber, shy attitude.

"Eeek- OW!" both cried, suddenly. And, as I looked up to see what had happened, each tore away from the other almost violently, their laughter cut short.

"You pinched me!" Christine accused, rubbing her arm gingerly.

"You pulled my hair!" Meg retorted tearfully, both hands on her head as though that would protect her.

"I did not! That hurt, Meg!"

"I didn't touch your stupid arm. Pulling my hair hurt more than pinching would anyway."

I set down my quill and my paper, feeling a pang of alarm when the two started to glare at each other. All of the playfulness that had filled the Box a minute ago was gone, replaced with hurt feelings galore.

"Say you're sorry," Christine said.

"No."

"Say you're sorry," Christine repeated, an edge coming into her voice.

"No. You say you're sorry. That hurt," Meg said, sniffling a little. Her eyes were getting red, though I couldn't see any tears forming.

"You're mean!"

"You're meaner!"

"Say you're sorry!"

"I didn't touch you! I already said I didn't, stupid."

"Don't call me stupid!"

It was definitely time to call someone in. I swept to my feet and hurried from behind a mirror set in the wall towards Box Five, quickening my steps when I heard Meg cry out in pain.

"Madame Giry," I hissed as I reached my pillar.

The woman somehow didn't seem to sense my need for immediate action. "Monsieur?" she said quietly, calmly to the air about her. She had been in the middle of wiping the dust from one of the seats, and hadn't bothered to stop when she heard me.

"Your charges require your immediate supervision. I suggest you hurry before they injure each other."

She set down her rag on the chair, turning towards the door, where I had thrown my voice. "Injure?" she demanded.

"Yes, injure! I suggest haste, woman!"

She had begun to hurry towards Box Seven until I finished speaking. Then she stopped and glared at the air about her. "It does not matter how much influence you have over the Opera Populaire, Monsieur Phantom," she said coolly. "You will still not address me so rudely."

"Yes, yes, will you hurry along?" I said impatiently. "Your charges are in the middle of a fight as we speak, and damned if I know how you can't hear them."

Madame Giry shot the door another venomous look, but complied, hastily heading towards Box Seven. As I followed along in the passages behind the walls, I realized precisely why Madame Giry hadn't heard anything.

There was an almost eerie silence emanating from said box.

This did not bode well.

I slipped behind one of the many one-sided mirrors that I had installed years ago in time to see Madame Giry enter the Box. Neither girl seemed to notice; little Giry had acquired a large, red handprint on her left cheek, and my pupil appeared to have gained a scratch on the arm that had been pinched a moment ago. Their eyes were shimmering with unshed tears, but by the way Christine was scrunching up her face, I had a feeling that that would change very soon.

"I… I… I hate you!" Christine cried. "I don't want to be your friend anymore!"

"Good!" Meg retorted angrily. "I don't want you to be my friend!"

"Meg Giry! Christine Daae!" Madame Giry said sharply. Both girls jumped, having only just noticed her there. "I will not hear you speaking so to each other again! To think that I believed you two could behave while on your own." She waved a hand disgustedly at the chair that had been knocked over and the carpet. "You will straighten up in here, and then you will both head to the dormitory. I will deal with you both later, when I haven't work to do. Is that clear?"

It was astounding how well a mother's voice could make the girls seem to shrink in on themselves. By the end of Madame Giry's speech, it seemed as though Christine and Meg had become no taller than perhaps three inches, while Madame Giry towered over them even more than usual.

With mumbles of, "Yes, mother" and "Yes, Madame," the two girls went to fix up the Box under her watch. Both were careful not to go near the other, however, and every time their eyes met, there was nothing but hurt and anger shown.

And when the time came for them to head down to the dormitory, neither of them spoke to the other during the entire journey.

* * *

"Oh, Angel, I hate her! She's so mean!" Christine cried.

I sighed and rubbed my temples, wondering why I'd been foolish enough to ask why Christine couldn't focus on her lessons today. If I'd asked her two months ago, she most likely would not have answered me. But now, now that I'd coached her and advised her, she was willing to tell me things like this.

Which would have been touching if she had let the matter drop thirty minutes ago.

"My dear, you can't mean that. She's been your friend since you came here to the Opera Populaire," I pointed out.

"No she hasn't. She made fun of you, Angel, and she still doesn't believe you exist. She always makes me be the bad people in our games, and I never get to be the princess. And she smells funny when she eats garlic."

I blinked at that. "All people do, my dear. That is the nature of garlic."

"Well, she smells funnier than anyone else!" she said. "I hate her! I hate her!"

All of this… over one little pinch or hair pull? It was hard for me to believe. I sighed, and lowered my hands from my head, wincing at its throbbing.

"I wish I'd never met her! I wish she didn't exist! I want her to go away and not come back!" Christine said, glaring at the candles before her.

I froze, hardly believing my ears. It was not like Christine to say such a harsh thing; she must have been in a bad mood earlier this morning. But other than that, an idea to fix this whole fiasco was forming in my mind. Meg had appeared a little under the weather lately…

"You truly wish that?" I asked softly.

"Yes," Christine said.

"Very well, my dear. Why don't you get to bed. It's late for little ones to be up."

She blinked, puzzled. Then she stood. "Angel, your voice sounds weird."

"Nonsense, Christine. Get some rest. All will be better in the morning, I can promise you that."

She frowned a little, but obeyed. With a little curtsy towards the candles in the chapel, she was on her way to sleep.

It was time to set things in motion, I decided. The sooner, the better…

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

Everything and Nothing

Notes- All right, I wasn't being completely fair in the last chapter. I did drop one or two hints about what Erik would do Meg-wise, but not clearly enough, I don't think. It's not what you're all expecting, though, so don't worry. Leave that to Christine… Anyway, enjoy.

* * *

Chapter Nine: Desolate Little Daae

Christine appeared to be rather puzzled when she woke up the next morning, surrounded by her usual friends in the dormitory.

Well, almost all of her friends. One was conspicuously missing, even though she'd been with the other girls when they'd all fallen asleep the night before.

My pupil blinked once or twice, then rubbed at her eyes. Then she blinked once more. Still nothing; Meg was nowhere in sight.

Frowning slightly, she looked around at the others, even going so far as to poke one of her other friends and ask where Meg might be. The other girl gave a shrug and went back to washing her face.

I had to leave after that, because a few of the littles were already dressing for the day. And despite what Joseph Buquet may say about a ghost, I was not that sort of phantom. I would leave that to him, as long as he never actually set eyes on my Christine when she was vulnerable…

A short while later, the puzzled expression was still growing as Christine ate her breakfast, looking up and down the tables set out for morning meals. A few of the stagehands had joined the children for the morning, complaining about the backbreaking work they were required to do today; moving scenery, checking the quality of the props, that sort of thing.

But no Meg was to be found.

Finally, Madame Giry made her appearance, but something looked a little odd about her this morning. She seemed to hunch ever so slightly over her cane, where before she had always had perfect posture. Her walking was swift like usual, but not in the confident sort of manner; it was almost frantic, like she was trying to tell everyone to work, and work now, and work fast; because otherwise something bad would happen.

Christine, of course, didn't really notice these changes except perhaps on a subconscious level. But she wasn't one to leave someone who was having troubles alone; she immediately hopped off of her seat, walked over and tugged on Madame Giry's dress.

"Madame, where's Meg?" she asked simply.

The elder Giry stared at Christine for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she covered her face with one hand and turned her head away, closing her eyes.

Christine stared, realizing that something must be very, very wrong for Madame Giry to act like this. "Madame?"

"She's… gone," Madame Giry whispered, just loudly enough for Christine alone to hear.

The young lady stepped back, her eyes wide. "You don't mean- you can't mean-"

Madame Giry was silent.

"No. No, that's not what- she's playing a joke on me, isn't she? And I don't care!" Christine declared, causing a few heads in the room to turn. "I don't care at all. She can hide all day if she wants." Then, awkwardly, she added, "I don't care."

"Then you'll take your seat and eat your breakfast, dear," said the girls' ballet mistress, who had just entered. "We have much to do today."

Oddly enough, Christine didn't have much of an appetite after that.

* * *

During rehearsals, I made my way out of the Opera Populaire, my hood covering most of my face. It was slightly damp outside, indicating that rain had fallen the night before, and the sky was still overcast. And of course, it was cool, making me glad for the extra warmth of my cloak.

I had to do some shopping, but first I had to check on how things were going in a certain little home…

* * *

"I wanna go outside," Meg insisted as I slipped into a good spot just outside her window.

"Now, Mademoiselle, you know as well as I do what your Mama said," an unfamiliar woman's voice said firmly. "You're not to go outside what with you being under the weather like this. What if it got worse? You know your Mama doesn't want to call in a doctor. You know how she feels about that."

I peeked in to see that everything was in order. Meg was in bed, looking tired and more than a little irritated for being forced to stay at home today. The woman Madame Giry had hired for today was moving about, tending both a fire, a meal and the little girl all at once.

"She doesn't have to. I'm fine," Meg said stubbornly, sniffling and wiping her nose.

"I'm sure you are. Humor me, my dear. I need this job for the day as much as your Mama needed you to be watched over."

Meg sighed. "Whatever."

"Now lie down and try to get some rest."

"I'm not tired."

"You certainly are. Look at you, your eyes are drooping."

In fact, all of Meg was sort of drooping to one side.

"No 'm not," Meg protested quietly. Then she let her head drop back onto her pillow.

And she promptly began to snore.

I chuckled softly, and then turned on the little house and back towards the Opera Populaire. It was time to see how my pupil was faring.


End file.
